In The Flashlight

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 628, 3 April 1929, Page 5

In The Flashlight

By

Bernard Rowthome

Author of “The Jewels of - Sin,” “The Shadow of the Yamen,” Etc., Etc.

CHAPTER XXV. On the homeward jouruey Margaret sat silent, staring out of the window, but seeing nothing of the countryside through which she was being whirled. Her mind was busy with the thought of the meeting with Noel once more. Once when she had seen him she had doubted his word, she had struck him with her whip, and she wondered what he would say; what he would do when he was free. Could she hope for forgiveness? Would he believe after fhat that she still loved him? Could he after that humiliation, and her want of faith, continue to lore her? She was distressed at the thought that the answer might be in the negative; but .he fortified herself with tlie thought that before the proof of his innocence had been obtained her faith in him l.ad returned, and that she had been the one through whom the evidence of his guiltlessness had been forthcoming She would not tell him; but when Noel came to know that, as he was bound to, It would soften his heart toward her, and then- ” Her thought went unfinished, but a look of hope came on her face, and When, two hours later, she waited In an anteroom of the Shire Hall, where the local magistrates were holding a special sitting; and where Noel stood in the prisoner’s box, preparatory to his release, the look of hope was still there, though now anxiety mingled ■with It.

A murmur of voices reached her. and continued for some little time. Then she heard someone laugh and a hearty voice say,. “Gratters! Mayhew, old chap!” She knew then that the sitting of the court was over, and that some friend was congratulating Noel on his release; and she waited, with increasing anxiety, as the minutes passed and he did not come. Through the window she saw a car leave the Shire Hall, and another, and divined that the magistrates were leaving. And Noel had not come to her! Overcome with anxiety she sank into a chair, and buried her face in her hands. Then the sound of footsteps in the carpeted corridor reached her, and she looked up, and an expectant light came in her eyes. The footsteps stopped, just outside, someone fumbled at the handle of the door, which was a little out of order, and then as the door opened she caught the sound of Mr. Strickland’s voice. “The young lady to whom you owe all this Is here. I think I will leave | her to Introduce herself.” On the heels of the words Noel en- I tered the room and as the door closed behind him. and his eyes fell on her. she saw them light up with sudden | gladness. “You, Margaret, you?” he cried. "Yes,” she said, "didn’t Mr. Strick- ; land tell you?”

"No! He told me about a girl who j found the note, and who had led Mannington to the evidence which delivers me and puts another man in my place; but he was vague and elusive j about the name! And it was you, all j the time, Margaret, you! I am glad of that. lam happy that my deliverance should have come through you.” "Then you will forgive me?” she i bried. "I struck you, I lost faith ” i “Margaret," he interrupted in a voice ! hoarse with emotion, as he took a step j toward her. “Margaret, if you want [ forgiveness ” His voice shook beyond control, j and he held out his arms. Margaret went to them just like a homing bird j to the nest; and as she buried her I face in his shoulder, he said, "Look up, my dear!” She looked up. and their lips met, i

then she whispered, “Oh, my dear, how glad I am! For three years I thought that you were dead. I mourned for you. I was dead to love but that of your dear memory, then there came that lying news in the paper, and I was dreadfully hurt, and ” “And then you agreed to marry Cars ton?” “Not because 1 was hurt! There were other reasons, reasons that I will get my father to explain to you.” “You’ll have to send Carston his conge ” He spoke lightly, and suddenly it came to her that there was another name that Mr. Strickland had omitted, beside her own. “Oh!” she said, ‘you do not know? You have not heard? John Carston —John Carston is the man who ” Her voice faltered but he read the truth in her face, and cried in amazement, “He is the man who killed that poor woman?” “Yes! He must have been the man whom she was looking for, the man to whom she referred in her note to you. She must have gone to meet him, and then —and then ” She shuddered as she recalled the photograph which would send Carston to the gallows, and he held her more closely to him. “The blackguard! And he would have married you if ”

There was a knock at the door, and i after a discreet wait, Mr. Strickland [ appeared. “Ah!” he said in his driest manner. , "I see the introduction is completed- ” "Strickland. I’ve half a mind to shake you till your bones rattle! Why j did you leave me in ignorance?”

“For —er —diplomatic reasons!” answered the lawyer, with a smile. “And for other good reasons 1 think I must ask you to cut short this interview, or, at any rate, finish it at my house, where a special luncheon awaits us. lou see, the caretaker is stamping his feet in the vestibule and waiting to close the hall.. And having paid him once, I am too much a miser to readily repeat the payment as 1 shall be compelled to do, if ”

“Mr. Strickland,” cried Margaret, laughing happily, “we will go to your house at once. We cannot plunge I you into further expense ” I “You are mistaken. Miss Melford,” I t,he lawyer laughed back. “It is not 1 upon whom the expense will fall; it is on Noel Mayhew, though the lunch is on my account, and if you neglect it any longer I shall feel that I have cause for very serious offence.” They left the Shire Hall a quite happy trio, and proceeded to the lawyer’s house, where Mr. Strickland awaited them. The luncheon proceeded merrily enough, until toward the end, when Mr. Strickland was called away to the telephone. It was some time before he returned, and when he did so his face had a grave look. He seated himself in his place, toyed with the stem of his wine glass for a moment; then he said: “That was Mannington. He will be here in a few, minutes. Things have not gone quite as he would have wished at Hawton Carew. He is coming here to tell us what happened.” “John Carston escaped?” cried Margaret questioningly. The lawyer nodded. “Yes,” he said, “he took the only way of escape that was open to him after Mannington’s dispositions.” “Ah! ” The exclamation came from Noel, who looked at the lawyer with a silent question in his eyes. The lawyer nodded in answer, and

i Noel looked at Margaret. “My dear,” ; he said, quietly-, “you have had enough of horrors. I think you had better leave Mr. Strickland and me to re- j j ceive Mannington.” “Y’es,” said Mrs. Strickland, rising briskly from her seat, and linking a j motherly arm in Margaret's. “Come, | my' dear, we will leave the men to I j their own affairs.” As the door closed behind the two | ladies, Noel Mayhew looked at his ; host. “The only way. you said?” 1 “Yes. Mannington’s in a fine taking about it. I gathered that Carston j shot himself.” "The best thing he could have done.” answered Noel. “It saves trouble for everyone.” "But it hurts Mannington’s amour propre,” answered the lawyer, with a dry smile. “To have a man so es- j cape him —whom he had gone to ar- ; rest, personally, is, I suppose, rather a nasty knock. particularly as he ! must have anticipated something of the sort might occur.” “Yes!" Noel was silent for a mo-

ment, then he said: “I wonder why the fellow used my name when he married that girl?” “First name that came to him, possibly. Some men are like that; they have no invention. He probably meant to leave the poor woman from the first.” But he must have known the thing would come out?" “Not necessarily. A marriage at Mombasa, for a man domiciled in England, and his place of residence here unknown, was .not bound to get known here, and he probably thought when he deserted her that the woman would accept the situation instead of going up to Nairobi at the end of the war to look for him. There was another thing, too. You were reported missing, and, later, assumed to have perished. Carston would see in that a quite golden opportunity and would almost certainly take steps to see that the news reached her. After that he would feel quite safe; and he certainly would never dream of her showing up at Hawton Carew, though once she had discovered that a family of Mayhews lived there, her appearance there is easily accounted for. She probably learned where you were domiciled, and came along on the offchance, stumbling on Carston after she had seen j'ou.” fully CS ’ Salcl Noe *> nodding thoughtA car stopped outside, and r.he lawyer rose briskly. “Mannington; now we shall know what happened at Hawton Carew.” When the new arrival entered the loom, it was clear that he was more than a little upset by his failure to secure Carston. w i U take a glass of wine,” said the lawyer, pushing the bottle toward him, as he threw himself into a seat. “Thank you, Strickland! It would take a tun to make me feel cheerful just now.”

I A‘T hen start . with the glass,” said the lawyer, with a dry smile. “What jhappened?” j “Carston shot himself under mv j very nose. If it had been one of my subordinates, who had allowed the ! thing to happen, I’d have broken him - j and yet I wasn’t to blame.” He drank W A” e ’ wa,che d while his host 1 e-filled the glass, accepted a cigaI I ett ® aIld > when he had lighted it, he I spoke again. "When I went in accompanied by Daly, he was in his ! study, and though I daresay he guessed why we had come, he gave no sign j Offered me a cigar, and then sat looking at me with a polite, inquiring look upon his face, one hand on the arm of his chair, the other, the right, inside his coat, wrist resting at the I place, where the button held the coat j together, a regular habit with him i w 1 on 1 e was talking, as perhaps you’ll | remember, and as I’d seen him on a j score of times, blind fool as I was j I thought nothing about it. I opened j out on the business on which we had ! come, and he grinned at me as nati ural as life, when I charged him with j murdering his wife, j “‘ls it a joke?’ he asked, as cool las ice. ‘Because if it isn’t, you’re j barking up the wrong tree, Manningto“\ Ive never had a wife.’ j may be two opinions about j that, I said, ‘and if you’ll take a look | at that you’ll see that the charge is quite serious.’ I pushed that untoned photograph across the desk to him, and he took his hand out of his coat to pick it up; ! then he bent over it and 1 saw him ; flinch a little.”

“ ‘So,’ he said, ‘that d d bird catcher sold me after all.’ j _ “ ‘Yes, more or less,’ I told him. ’He was broken up in a motor accii d . ent > and, knowing he hadn’t long to j live, cleared his soul.’ i ” ‘lt wasn’t worth clearing,’ he j said savagely, and I knew how really hipped he was. I “Then he handed me the picture back, and leaned back in his chair as naturally as could be, thrusting his ! hand back into its old resting place. “ ‘What are you going to do with me, Mannington?’ he asked, as quietly as if he were discussing some other man’s case. “ ‘Well.’ I said, 'first it will be the County station, then the Magisterial hearing, after that the Assizes, and after that ’ I didn’t finish. There was no need, and, after all, it isn’t very pleasant to tell a fellow whom you’ve dined with that he’s going to be hanged. He nodded, and then he spoke again. ‘What a mess I’ve made of it. But I won’t be hanged, Mannington.’ “ ‘Sorry I can’t share your confidence,’ I said. ‘but I’m afraid you will.’ “ No,’ he said, ‘that’s where the spokes rattle in your wheels, Mannington, I ’

] "It was then that it happened. He had the pistol, a small but efficient i automatic, iu his breast pocket, and j he was fooling me all the time. He | didn’t live two minutes after he pulled the trigger, for the muzzle was right i over his heart. Must have had a nerve to sit there talking to me, and Daly, with that in his mind ail the time. Anyway, annoying as it is to me that he should have slipped me, I don’t blame him. In the same circumstances I should have done as much myself.” Mannington lit another cigarette and then he rose. "Y'ou must excuse me now, Strickland, I’ve rather a lot to do, owing to this business; but. I thought it was due to Mayhew here that he should know exactly what hap- j pened. I shall see you both before i long, I expect.” Mr. Strickland saw him out of the room, and then returned to Noel, who \ had risen from his chair. “I think I must go to Hawton, now, Mr. Strickland, I must see Donald.” “He’ll be glad enough to see you, though he will have to step back into the second place. He was wild with

delight when he heard you were alive, and went off from here at a breakneck pace to catch the African boat.” “Good old Don!” said the young man. with some feeling. Mr. Strickland nodded. “Yes; he’s that, your brother, true blue if ever a man was! But you’ll want a car. Noel?” j “Yes.” “I think 1 can find you one,” replied the lawyer with a smile, "if you will excuse me for a moment.” He disappeared, and presently looking out of the window, Noel Mayhew saw the car with Margaret at the wheel, and went gaily to take his place at-her side. When they’ reached Hawton Carew they went straight to the Court, and there, her lover insisted that she should go with him to his brother. 11l as he was, and to the utter dismay of the nurse, Donald gave a shout of welcome as his brother entered the room, and as they shook hands, Noel Mayhew knew that, whoever had been responsible for leaving him in the lurch in Africa, it had not been his brother. It was Donald

himself who suggested the solution one day when his brother and he were discussing the matter a week later. “That fellow, Carston, was out. there, you know, Noel. He was supposed to have marched to your relief, and arrived late. It’s a thousand pounds to a penny that he was the man who sent to me the heliograph that you had been relieved. He wanted you to be wiped out, having used your name, no doubt thinking that way he’d rid himself of his Creole wife.” “By Jove —I believe you’re right, Don,” said Noel, with a look of conviction in his eyes. But before that solution was reached another difficulty had already been solved: for after seeing his brother Noel insisted on accompanying his fiancee home. As they drove up the drive they observed Mr. Melford walking in the terrace with another man in deep conversation. Catching sight of Margaret’s face, as her eyes alighted on the pair, he saw they were very troubled, and asked sharply;

j “Something wrong, Margaret?” i "Yes,” she answered “very wrong—or very right!” But as it proved it was very right. For as the car drew up Mr. Melford and bis visitor turned and came to ward it. “Freedlam,” he said to his visitor, “you have met my daughter already, I gather. Margaret, you will be glad to know that Mr. Freedlam and I have adjusted our differences?’ “Dat vas not so difficult, nein, not as I would hat tought. For your father haf been most generous, und I grow old und haf had mooch trouble, und der peace is better dan var for old better. For der young, like dis young shentleman, I will not say; for dem, var und der ; struggle may be better dan love ” j “No, Mr. Freedlam —-no!" broke ta i Noel. "Not than love. You are j quite wrong there—quite!” ! And in his voice there was the music of conviction, while the light j of it flamed in his eyes and illumin- | ated his ravaged face. THE END.